“I have visited the laid-off factory workers and the communities crushed by our horrible and unfair trade deals,” Donald Trump said last night. “These are the forgotten men and women of our country. People who work hard but no longer have a voice.
“I AM YOUR VOICE.”
Those words were capitalized in the written text of Trump’s acceptance speech. That all-caps sentence was meant to be a big deal. And so it is.
Franklin Roosevelt spoke up about “the forgotten man” during his 1932 campaign, in a time when the nation really had plunged into the kind of abyss that Trump spent well over an hour last night trying to convince his listeners is back again. But Roosevelt never claimed that he was his supporters’ voice. Nor did Lincoln or Washington.
“I have joined the political arena so that the powerful can no longer beat up on people who cannot defend themselves,” Trump also said. “Nobody knows the system better than me, which is why I alone can fix it.”
Not just “I.” “I alone.” Read More.
Part and parcel of the Trump campaign’s brand is its misogyny. From the witch-burning vibe of the Republican National Convention’s second night to Trump’s own campaign-trail commentary on the appearance of various women and the menstrual cycle of a debate moderator, resentment of the growing power of women is a driving force among Trump supporters, especially as he vies for the presidency against Hillary Clinton. The notion of a woman president, so galling to so many, represents a fear that Trump has exploited without compunction.
The result has been high negative poll ratings among women for the Republican Party’s presidential nominee. To soften those edges among women watching the Republican National Convention from the comfort of their living rooms, Trump dispatched his daughter, Ivanka, to the podium Thursday night to make the case that her father is a caring patriarch who has the interests and concerns of the nation’s working women at heart, and that he’s an empathetic and caring person—qualities that women value. Read More.
he Republican National Convention wrapped up on a calm note Thursday night, despite predictions that one of the most controversial party gatherings in decades would draw enormous crowds and potentially violent clashes between opposing groups.
Cleveland had braced for the worst, bringing in thousands of law enforcement officers from across the country and using part of a $50 million federal grant to purchase riot gear, handcuffs, and other equipment. Along the way, the city was also hit with a lawsuit from the American Civil Liberties Union, which charged that the designated parade route was too small and infringed on protesters' right to free expression.
In the end, Cleveland's newly-refurbished Public Square, located downtown just a few blocks from the convention site, became a magnet for protesters, onlookers and police over the four days of the convention. Demonstrators took turns reserving time at a "speaker's platform" erected in the square, and protesters with homemade signs mingled with curious onlookers and downtown employees on lunch breaks. Among them were scores of reporters and photographers, and, of course, police officers, who often formed long double-lines, backs to one other, and who moved in to stand near provocative groups or separate them from the crowd. Read More.